


To Pray For Proof

by ClassicTammy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Kylo Ren Has Issues, references to pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:05:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassicTammy/pseuds/ClassicTammy
Summary: For ReyloHardKinks prompt:"a f t e r c a r e. Rey can Kylo have met up once or twice previously, and Rey's never stuck around after she's gotten her orgasm, but this session was particularly rough on Kylo and she feels obligated to make sure he ends up okay. Kylo is wary and standoffish, but quickly melts under her attention. And Rey's never felt stronger than when she's got Kylo Ren practically purring under her hands."





	To Pray For Proof

**Author's Note:**

> Hope the prompter likes this!

Kylo lies perfectly still. The marred expanse of his naked skin is covered with rapidly cooling sweat. He is on his back, arms reaching above his head, gripping the bars of the headboard tightly. Moments ago, Rey had held him in this position with the Force as she found her pleasure using his body, before letting go and rising up off him. It still hasn’t occurred to him to move yet.

This encounter had gone much the same as the ones previous. Meeting in secret, him letting himself get roughed up, her riding him until she was satisfied. Normally she would leave immediately after, and alone he would deal with a still-throbbing erection and the worst of the wounds she put on his skin. This time though, this time he came with her, inside her. He had begged her to let him come this time. She didn’t care, she had said. All he had to do was stay hard long enough for her to get off.

It had been overwhelming to finish inside her tight, inviting heat. More than her harsh words, her cruel hands, her creative use of the Force hurting him, testing his strength, proving to her just how much he could withstand. Truly, he could be strong, take whatever punishment she gave him. But finishing with her, in her, was what broke him. His eyes stung, and tears began to well.

“You can put your arms down, you know,” Rey says distractedly while she buckles her belt. She doesn’t usually speak to him after.

She walks across the room, gathering her things. She picks up her canteen and pulls the strap across her shoulder. There’s no need for a canteen here. It’s not the nicest hotel in the galaxy, but there is no shortage of drinkable water here. But no. The desert was too much a part of her, exacting, unforgiving, ready to burn up anyone who underestimated it.

Rey is almost ready to leave. She spares him a glance. Just then a traitorous tear rolls down his cheek, following the line of the scar she had marked him with so long ago. The scar that showed that she had bested him, that she was stronger.

“Are you crying?” Her voice mimics concern. She’s mocking him, she must be. Some deluded part of his mind pretends for a moment that she could actually care.

Kylo turns his face from her quickly, not letting her revel even more in his weakness. Slowly his body follows, twisting to lie on his side, with his back to her. Welts and scratches crisscross the surface of his skin, a grotesque work of art on a flawed canvass. He is sure some must have gone deep enough to draw blood. He moves gingerly, but even his stiff movements tug at the skin on his back that she had torn into. A sharp hiss of pain escapes his mouth before he can suppress it.

“Kylo? Did I hurt you too much this time?”

Great, just great. Now she thinks he’s weak. Of course she does. He is. He’s a weak, pathetic creature. He always has been. She has seen it before, and he’s just reaffirming it for her now. He takes a shuddering breath, trying—and failing—to stop crying.

He feels the bed behind him sink down. She kneels on the bed and lightly touches his shoulder. Kylo can’t help but flinch, and she yanks her hand back before stepping off the bed. He hears her walk to the other side of the room and open the door to the fresher. There’s a sound of opening cabinets and running water as she rummages, looking for who knows what. She comes back and sets something gently down on the bedside table.

“Kylo, look at me.” He pointedly buries his face deeper in the pillow he’s lying on. He had stopped crying, but he knows his face would show too much evidence that he had been. “ _Kylo._ ” She grabs his shoulder, barely firmer than her last touch, and pulls him to face her, just a little. Her perfect face is slightly scrunched like she’s trying to figure him out. Like she doesn’t already know exactly what he is. A monster too weak to be feared.

“Roll over on your stomach.” He acquiesces, of course he does, waiting for whatever it is she wants to do to him now.

He isn’t prepared for her to set a cool washcloth on his back. His shoulders tense, and he snaps his head back to look at her, opening his mouth to say something. She shushes him before he can think of any words and tells him to lie back down.

Rey runs the cloth across his back, over the marks she had made. Kylo gradually feels his muscles relax. Some of her movements pull the damp fabric away from her hand and he can feel her fingers lightly run over his skin. It feels so decadent to have her care for the wounds like he’s a helpless, broken thing that can’t take care of itself.

She removes the cloth and soon an antiseptic smell hits him. She gently rubs Bacta in his wounds. She must have found a first aid kit somewhere. He feels segments of his skin begin to knit together. He doesn’t need this. Much worse injuries have been left to heal themselves on his skin before. But he can’t bring himself to be too indignant about this. It feels too good to be under her care.

With a slight push of her hand, he rolls onto his side, this time facing her. He must look a sniveling wreck, but she’s looking with what he can pretend is kindness. She picks up the wash cloth again, this time wiping his drying sweat and tears from his brow and cheeks, her saliva and arousal from his mouth. She moves down his body and cleans their mixed come from his groin. She returns the rag to the nightstand and reaches to her canteen at her hip.

She takes a quick sip from it first before holding it to Kylo’s mouth. He reaches a hand up to take it, but Rey doesn’t let go. He is too tired to lift his head, so when she tips the bottle for him to drink, some lukewarm water runs down the side of his chin onto the pillow. She takes the bottle back and puts it on the nightstand too, and she uses her thumb to dry him off some. She pulls a blanket up over his naked body and gets up to leave again.

Needy thing that he is, he reaches out to grab her wrist before he can think. She looks at him questioningly, and before he loses his nerve, he speaks.

“ _Stay._ ” Question or command, he can’t tell. He stares up at her, a beggar in need of her generosity.

A moment passes. Then another. Her eyes search his, and then, by some miracle, she moves back onto the bed. She lifts the blanket and slides underneath it with him. “Just this once,” she warns. His heart soars with this though, because it means this isn’t their last time together.

She shifts closer to him, and pulls his naked body against her clothed one. His spine stiffens. He is unused to simply lying next to someone, much less _her_. She brings her hand to the back of his head and guides his face into her neck. Her cheek is resting on the top of his head, and he thinks she’s smelling his hair, as if that could be enjoyable for her. He breathes her in and slowly starts to relax. This is good, he thinks. She can’t see all the weakness play across his face like this. She can put him where she likes, and he can take whatever she gives him. This is good.

The hand in his hair starts to scratch at the scalp, and he’s melting under her touch. He wraps his arm heavily around her waist, and he can’t help the tentative smile pressing against the skin of her neck. Kylo can’t remember the last time he could pretend he was so small and safe and wanted. Rey ran her hand down his back, lulling him further. She is a fire crackling in the hearth, a warm haven from the storm outside.

They lie pressed tight against one another for some time. He eventually dozes off, and for a while, he can truly rest, a luxury he hasn’t had in so long.

When he wakes, Rey has gone from the bed. The nightstand is empty, no trace indicating anyone else had ever been here. Kylo is alone.


End file.
